When This Long Trick
by Nancy Brown
Summary: Jack and Ianto are making a living as independent businessmen with a flexible approach to local laws, but working for their latest client could change everything, from their past to Jack's future. Intersections 'verse.
1. Chapter 1

Title: When This Long Trick  
>Author: <strong>nancybrown<strong>  
>Artist: <strong>kuroneko_tyger<strong>  
>Pairing: JackIanto  
>Spoilers: Up through COE<br>Warnings: some graphic descriptions of injuries, character death  
>Betas: <strong>eldarwannabe<strong> provided valuable help and suggestions, and **fide_et_spe** and **amilyn** brought it home.  
>AN: Written for the <strong>ianto_bigbang<strong>, Jack/Ianto Minibang Track. Part of the Intersections series.

Previous stories in this series:

In My Unique Position  
>Intersecting Geodesics<br>Mother's Day  
>The Roots of the Quadratic<br>Names  
>From the Cold Coast of Norway<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

* * *

><p>Wherever his travels took him, Ianto had found that the pubs in the spaceports were essentially the same. The better establishments were upscale clubs with themes and expensive drinks, places to be seen and be social. Jack and Ianto didn't spend much time in these. Their more usual haunts were dingy, unkempt taverns set aside for hard drinkers and criminals, where illicit deals formed half the ambience and which served beverages indistinguishable from paint thinner.<p>

Paint thinner wasn't that bad, once he was used to it.

Ianto sat at his customary place at the bar, watching the room for trouble while Jack negotiated with their latest potential client. Ianto hadn't met Nyxinians before. After all this time, he still found it awe-inspiring to observe a three-metre-tall wall of grey fur as it argued with Jack over the price of a trip to the next star system. Ianto tried to listen in over the ambient noise of the pub, but although he'd picked up enough Standard to be fluent, that wasn't helpful when the conversation took place in whispers and euphemisms.

The negotiations ended abruptly when the grey giant stood up, growled at Jack, and heaved his bulk off in a huff. Jack finished his water, then joined Ianto.

"His friends went with him," Ianto said in English. "We're clear."

"Good."

"Was the price too high?"

"I didn't like the cargo. There's a reason that stuff is outlawed in the next star system."

Drugs again, then. Their ship was frequently used for smuggling purposes, and more than once, they'd brought on illegal cargo. Jack claimed to have tried most of the available hallucinogens in this time period during his days as a Time Agent, and he was firm on which were harmless and which were equivalent to setting one's own hair on fire for kicks. Ianto had sampled one of their hauls, by accidental exposure rather than by choice. After the pink giraffes had roamed away two days later, he'd sworn off anything harder than the paint thinner. He knew where he stood with paint thinner.

He took one last nasty swallow and left a tip for the bartender.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Jack said. "We can find more business once our name gets around."

Jack drove the hardest bargains with the least savoury potential clients. They could afford to lose jobs if he priced them out of reach. All their profits went into an investment account for a philanthropic foundation they'd set up under one of Jack's old nicknames. Taking the money out of circulation from the local criminal element was an additional benefit.

Ianto smiled uneasily as they passed one of the red-clad security officers who patrolled this station. He wasn't sure he wanted too much notoriety here. He'd had enough of waking up in alien prison cells.

_Dear David and Mica,_

_This is a mental photograph of a space station Jack and I visited. Notice the grey walls and lack of décor. Don't be frightened by the aliens. Yes, many of them appear large and scary, and some of them would happily rip out your ribs for a snack, but most just go about their lives, working and having baby aliens and setting aside money for the future._

_Ask your mam about making baby aliens. I don't want to get into it._

_I miss you. Didn't think I would, but when I look around places like this, I wonder what you'd see, who you might have grown up to be surrounded by all this Spock stuff._

_Here's a mental snap of Jack standing by our ship._

The docks at this spaceport were stacked like so many LEGO bricks, big and small ships each in their own private bays rented out at exorbitant rates by the week. ("Scam," Jack had said flatly. "They know most of the ships won't dock that long, but they have to pay the full week anyway.") The _Celes Tirra_sat in a bay far too large for her sleek, compact body. ("Another scam. We passed bays that would have been fine, but we're being charged for the larger area.") They were alone.

Or should have been.

Giant, Grey and Furry had brought his friends to visit, and with the bay cut off from the rest, no-one would hear them. Were they here to steal the ship? Ianto glanced at Jack's face, saw that he was taking in the grey's weapon: heavy, blunt, not good for a simple shoot-and-grab. They'd come to teach a lesson, then. Given that two of the other aliens carried blasters, the Nyxinian was contemplating a permanent lesson intended for future business partners.

"I count five," Jack said in English, and then in Standard he said, "Hello, boys. Did you reconsider our price?"

Ianto said, "There's a sixth one behind the starboard strut. Different species." He couldn't make out more than a shape in the shadows, but it was smaller, not furry, could be humanoid.

"Got it."

"You should reconsider my offer," said the Nyxinian. "I will offer you your life and the life of your mate in trade for your _dooend_ship."

"I've had better deals," Jack said, ignoring the insult. His hands hung loose by his sides, easily within reach to grab his weapon. "Why don't we go back to the pub and have a chat?"

Another Nyxinian, one with deep brown fur, leaned over to the grey, and said something in a language Ianto didn't know. The grey alien made a hand gesture he did know. Two of the remaining Nyxinians stepped forward with their, for lack of a better term, clubs.

Jack's hand flew to his weapon and had it pointed directly at the leader. "Let's not do anything we regret."

"Jack," Ianto said quietly. "Seven and eight are behind us." He turned carefully, not grabbing his weapon yet.

The alien in the shadows stepped out, aimed and fired. Ianto and Jack dove to the ground. Jack's gun was in his hand, and he shot the grey alien, who fell with a soft grunt. Ianto had more trouble getting his own gun free, expecting any second to feel a blast ripping through him. As he went to aim, he saw the humanoid fire over him. Ianto's head whipped around to see a Nyxinian crumple to the ground. He had a friend behind him, whom Ianto managed to clip in the legs. The Nyxinian fell, then kept crawling towards them. Ianto fired again, and didn't miss.

Beside him, Jack grunted and stiffened. Ianto rolled, barely dodging a second blast, and scrambled to his feet, wanting to meet his assailant face-on. There was another shot, and the alien fell. Bodies surrounded him, he took in with a scared glance. Jack's eyes were open and sightless. Their own weapons had been set on stun, but their assailants had different standards.

The last alien came closer. It hadn't fired upon Ianto or Jack. Ianto forced himself not to shoot. He said in Standard, "You helped us. Why?"

"You needed help. Get him into the ship. We need to be out of here before they wake up."

Ianto hesitated. He wasn't stupid. No-one he'd met in the last five years helped people out of the goodness of their hearts (or heart-analogues). It was possible the alien had set up the encounter with the Nyxinians in order to give Ianto and Jack a reason to trust him. On the other hand, Ianto needed assistance dragging Jack's corpse into the ship, and he could set aside his inner suspicious bastard for that long.

"Get his legs. He took a bad stun to the chest." The alien moved closer and pulled aside his loose poncho to free his arms. He wasn't just humanoid, but human, a rarity in these parts. His sandy brown hair was drawn back in a neat ponytail, common for travellers who expected long journeys between barber visits. Handsome, Ianto thought and then dismissed. The bloke was half his age.

The man took a critical look at Jack's injury, and then hefted his legs. Ianto keyed in the open code for the _Celes Tirra_, and together, they brought Jack inside, placing him carefully on the deck.

"Thank you for your help. I'll be taking off now." He indicated the gangplank.

The man smiled tightly. "Is saving your life worth a quick trip? I won't be welcome here, either."

Ianto had a moment's agony of indecision. He ought to eject their unwanted passenger, but he'd helped them out in a bad situation and, scam or not, Ianto was raised better than that. He really didn't want the stranger in the control room. There was little the man could possibly do to Jack whilst Jack was dead. "Stay here with him. I'm sure he'll wake up soon."

"I give him about six more minutes. These blasters do a number on the nervous system."

Ianto hurried into the control room, then started the warm up for the engines. He could do a cold start, though Jack said it was hard on the ship: more maintenance later for a longer head start now. He'd take it.

Ianto signalled the Dock Master for an opening, and guided the ship out carefully. He'd learned the basics of flying for this kind of emergency. He couldn't dodge or roll or perform the tricks Jack knew with fluid ease, could never make the ship an extension of himself, but he could get them into the sky and chart a flight path that didn't run them through any suns.

He spent some time setting a course for a nearby port they'd visited numerous times going from place to place. He kept an ear out for any pursuit. None came. To be on the safe side, he also ran a security sweep for tracking devices on the outer hull. When he was satisfied they were away and free, he returned to the main cabin where Jack was coming around. Ianto helped him sit up, but Jack's eyes were fixed on the newcomer.

"We have company?"

"He assisted in the firefight. You were stunned pretty badly."

"Died, actually," said the man. "Fortunately, you seem to be feeling better."

"Yeah. Thanks." Jack got to his feet.

The man offered the same tight smile as before. "What names are you two going by these days? The ship wasn't registered at the station under Harkness or Jones."

Jack was an old master at not showing anything on his face. "Twil Dane. My partner, Pallan Nos." Their last two sets of identities were wanted in this sector. Jack figured one more move and they could go back to plain old Jack and Ianto. "And you are?"

"Bob Wilson."

"Really?" Ianto asked before he could stop himself.

"No." The smile stayed on his face, friendly but wary. "It's as good a name as you're using."

"Fair enough," said Jack. "What do you want?"

"Your help. I can pay." From nowhere, he produced a credit slip and passed it to Jack, whose eyebrows shot up as he read. Then he handed it back.

"We choose the jobs. Call me funny, but I'm suspicious of anyone with this much money who comes to me."

Bob shrugged. "The credits are good. It's up to you if you want them."

"How did you find us?" Ianto asked. "We've been working incognito due to a few too many run-ins with people who'd like us dead. But you knew where we'd be, and what to ask." And how did he know their surnames?

Bob smiled. "Ah. Well. I've read the book."

"What book?" Jack asked.

"Yours." He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small bookplayer. "There are three chapters and an appendix dedicated to the time you two went gallivanting around the galaxy together. You weren't hard to trace." Jack made a grab for the book, but Bob shoved it away. "You can't see, sorry."

Ianto said, "If you say 'spoilers,' I will rip off your lips."

Bob laughed again. "That's right, the two of you ran into River not that long ago. What did she steal, exactly? You weren't forthcoming with details when you wrote about it."

"It was nothing," Jack said. The most expensive lockpick in the galaxy, which they'd been quietly transporting for a particular royal family, was hardly "nothing," especially when the theft had nearly cost them their heads when they'd arrived empty-handed. Doctor Song was high on Jack and Ianto's shortlist of unwanted passengers.

Maybe Bob knew all this, maybe he didn't. He shrugged. "I'll just tell you, no peeking."

Jack folded his arms. "Say we believe you."

"Say you do."

"What's the job?"

"Stolen item. I need it back."

"Let me guess. Family heirloom, no monetary worth but a high sentimental value?" No self-respecting independent businessperson would give any other answer when asked about not-especially-legal loot.

"You're not entirely off base, but no. It's my time machine. I'm not supposed to be in this time, and I'd like to get back to mine."

That had Jack's attention. Of course, Bob must be a time traveller to have read the book. But the possibility of "borrowing" the time-travel device was clearly running through Jack's mind even moreso than stealing a look at his memoirs. Jack's long life was full of regrets. So was Ianto's. Five minutes back with someone either had loved once would be worth every credit they'd made, and more.

"When are you from? Why are you here?"

"Far enough ahead, and none of your business."

"I want one or the other. We trade in information as much as we do in transport." This was true. Some passengers could only pay in secrets, and in favours owed; information was an acceptable coin of trade.

Bob's face turned in a scowl. "This was a stopping place. I came back to retrieve something to take forward." He dug into a pocket. Ianto tensed when Bob drew out a small device, about the size of a plum. "You can touch it."

Jack looked over the device and handed it back. "It's a toy. You're time-travelling for games?"

"I found it for a collector. This is the only time period when they made this particular unit. I tracked one down at Lyndrica Base. While I was busy making the deal, my time machine was stolen."

Ah. Bob was a dealer in ancient artefacts, using an insider's advantage for their acquisition. Jack could work with that. "Ten thousand up front, another ten when we find it."

"Twenty thousand now, and your personal word you're not going to swipe it from me. Five thousand on completion."

Jack was the negotiator, and wouldn't dare to pass along a questioning look to his partner. Ianto could hear the uncertainty in his tone, even as Jack masked his caution with a little extra bombastic flair. "For that much, you can buy a time travel device on the black market."

"I can buy a puddle-jumper. My device goes much farther than the trinkets you've got floating around today."

The Time Agency had left behind only scraps in the wake of their destruction. Time-hoppers went up to fifty years in either direction, if the user didn't mind the huge power drain, the likelihood it would be a one-way trip, or the fifty percent chance of induced insanity from flying unshielded through the Vortex. Ianto often wondered where the good technology had gone, all the VMs, all the large transporters, the backbone of the Time Agency's operation. The only explanation that made sense was what he'd been considering since he first encountered the Agency, when they'd brought him back amongst the living and whisked him into this strange future. Someone, somewhere, had been keeping an eye out, manipulating Time Agents from far off, and that same shadowy figure may have come after their fall to sweep up the most dangerous playthings before someone got hurt. He would suspect Jack's daughter and her Gallifreyan girlfriend, but subtle wasn't their style.

"I don't trust him," Ianto said in English. "This sounds too good to be true."

"I'm with you. If half of what he says is true, though, I want him where we can see him." And if following Bob meant they could grab the time machine, who would blame them? Jack dropped back into Standard. "It's a good deal."

Bob said, "Your word, Captain?"

Jack nodded, and they shook on it. Ianto didn't miss how Bob held onto Jack's hand longer than necessary, but jealousy had never served him with Jack. He offered Bob a smile instead, considering ways to get him off the ship as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>They docked with little trouble at Lyndrica Base, which orbited a blue-ringed gas giant. Jack flirted with the Dock Master to get them a better parking location. Ianto spoofed their ship ID in case their reputation preceded them. Bob said nothing, his fingers playing idly at his side.<p>

"You came all the way to find us from here?" Jack asked as they disembarked. "You could have hired someone closer."

"I could have. You're the best."

Ianto watched Jack's chest puff up, though he hid most of the bravado. Flattery was the fastest way to Jack's heart, always.

Their contacts list didn't extend to this particular vile spaceport. That didn't stop Jack from scoping out the area and setting up operation in yet another badly-lit pub. Ianto and Bob waited at the bar while Jack smoothly slid into a table. The paint thinner was worse than the swill from the last establishment. Ianto shuddered as he took a taste, then set his cup - this pub went for earthenware glazed with aquamarine gemstones - as far away from him as politeness permitted.

Two slow hours passed in which Jack made friends and Ianto sipped his cup of bad brew while keeping a lookout. Bob had slipped off to see if he could catch a glimpse of the aliens who'd robbed him. Ianto couldn't say he was unhappy to see him gone. The sooner this operation was finished, the better.

Nodding as his latest new friend rolled away, Jack left his table with credits down for the waitress, and made his way to Ianto's side. The warmth of him, and the happy glow on his face, were enough to make this whole dark pub light up.

"We're in luck," Jack said in English, taking Ianto's hand and playing with the webbing between his fingers. "Tonight, there's an unofficial auction in one of the staterooms, invitation-only but I'll get us in." Unofficial auctions meant black market. Whoever had stolen Bob's time machine would have flogged it quickly, but even if it didn't wind up in this auction, someone amongst the clientele might know who had possession now.

"What's our cover?"

"We're looking for a high-quality time-hopper. Something bad happened to our children twenty years ago, I've left it vague, we don't want to talk about it. We're mounting a mission to find them and bring them forward, and we'll pay anything. Our good buddy Bob brought us here in his ship. He had what we needed but he lost it, the fool, so we're here to handle things personally."

Ianto nodded, absorbing the details. "How many children?"

"Two, a boy and a girl. You can choose their names."

"Cefn and Brynne."

"Fine." Jack paused. "How long have you had names picked out?"

"Back in the old days, I used to doodle them along with 'Ianto Harkness' on my notepad during slow times at the TIC." Ianto kept his face perfectly blank. Jack stared back, equally unwilling to be the first one to break for the joke.

It ended in stalemate, as Bob came back into the pub and joined them at the bar. "The Marnites I ran into are still here," he said. "I saw them, I don't think they saw me."

Jack let go of Ianto's hand. "Good," he said, sliding back into Standard speech. "Pallan and I are going in tonight to work an auction. If you can give us a description on the robbers, this will be over quickly."

"Let's hope so," said Bob. His gaze went back to where their hands had been joined, and his expression went strange before it smoothed out again.

* * *

><p>"You can't be serious."<p>

Ianto stared into the mirror. They'd compromised on a smaller mirror than Jack had wanted; this one fit on the bulkhead. The reflective surface, made of a metal-imbued polymer, showed most of a full adult male human body. Jack loved getting ready in it, and making out in front of it. Ianto found it useful for previewing the sartorial nightmares Jack insisted on for various activities, both professional and otherwise.

This outfit counted as professional. For certain professions, anyway.

"It's a miniskirt."

"It's not," Jack said sliding up happily behind him, completely unashamed in his own far-too-small ensemble. "Miniskirts are technically four centimetres shorter than this." He placed his hand on Ianto's thigh, edging up under the edge of the skirt exactly four centimetres, fingers in wonderfully close proximity to Ianto's dick. That wasn't going to make up for this. Ianto reached down and moved the hand.

"We'll wear our normal kit. This is ridiculous."

"This is less conspicuous than our kit. Patrons of the auction are going to be wearing clothes like this to indicate they're not carrying weapons."

"I've seen your secret holster."

Jack grinned. "I could fit you with one."

"No."

"You've got the perfect legs for this."

"Jack … "

"It'll be fine." Jack caught his expression. "Really. It'll be fine."

* * *

><p>They could have shown up in their kit. Half the clientele milling around the anteroom wore similarly revealing outfits to those Jack and Ianto sported, but the rest were dressed normally, if in finer fabrics than Ianto typically saw: more gems, more flattering cuts, higher-quality construction than the standard loose tunics and tight trousers. He'd made a study when they'd first begun this stage of their lives, another new set of details to absorb about life much further in the future than he'd dared hope to see. With practise, he could tell which potential clients had the fattest pockets. That was why Jack had opted them for the more revealing clothes. They were claiming to be wealthy, but only in the service of their goal.<p>

As Ianto scanned the aliens present, he kept his amusement to himself. They _were_wealthy, thanks to thousands of years of investments during Jack's slow path through his life, rich enough for the two of them to live like princes on a pleasure planet for the rest of Ianto's life, no matter how much leg they were showing.

Bob waited for them back at the pub. He'd taken one look at their clothes, and he hadn't laughed, but it had been a close call.

Ianto took a glass heavy with drink and kept it in his hand as camouflage. The alcohol would taste better here, but he needed a clear head and wouldn't risk sampling. Jack dropped off their offering for the auction - a haul of gemstones they'd taken in barter for passage last week - while checking for their quarry.

"No joy," Jack said, fluttering back and wrapping a protective hand around the one holding the glass.

"We're early."

"You know, this won't start for a little bit yet. We could step out and find a dark corner." Jack's eyes glittered like one of the jewelled capes passing by. His voice dropped a register. "I went regimental."

"Have you ever given up an opportunity to forgo pants?" Despite himself, he began glancing around for the best place to go for a quiet snog. These outfits weren't going to hide anything if Jack upped the flirting, so he may as well enjoy it.

"Not yet." Jack's growl promised quite a lot from that snog. Give him a darkened spot just out of view, and Ianto's hands could be under the thick fabric at Jack's thighs in a heartbeat. His own pants would shimmy down his legs as fast as Jack could drop them. Jack's firm, knowing hand would be on him, wanking him as they kissed, their mouths growing messy. Ianto could reciprocate, rubbing his thumb over Jack's wet slit and foreskin, or drop shamelessly to his knees to suck.

Just thinking about it, he was growing aroused. Alas, there was no dark corner to utilise.

He rested his chin on Jack's shoulder to breathe in his ear: "When we get back to the ship, I want you." Jack rewarded him with a shiver.

Another group of aliens in skimpy clothes entered the anteroom to mingle. Ianto noticed the distinct green plumage and sloping extra limbs: a Marnite flock, just as Bob had described. Whether they'd robbed him as he claimed or he intended to rob them, the truth wasn't an issue. Contact was first, then negotiation. Theft could wait. Also sex.

Ianto took a lingering glance at Jack as he watched the Marnites. The birds carried their gear in a rucksack. Inside might be Bob's time machine, or they may have stowed it elsewhere, or they'd sold it. No way to tell yet, no use in making a move too soon. Jack's eyes never left the sack.

Inside the large stateroom proper, Ianto saw more evidence of wealth: an expansive view of the gas giant below was available through one window, whereas most visitors to the base would be lucky to catch even a glimpse of starfield as they went about their business. Interior rooms were small, cramped, and windowless.

Comfortable seats had been reserved for the better-dressed patrons. Jack and Ianto took stations standing by the outer door, and the auction got underway. The cheapest items were bid upon and won. Jack put in small bids for two early pieces Ianto didn't recognise, and was quickly outbid on both. Their gemstones were snatched up by a Marnite, who fluffed her feathers happily as she paid the auctioneer. As the better items went up for bid, the rich clients began competing. Jack bid on a low-quality time-hopper, a cheap imitation of his vortex manipulator that was going for a steep price. When he was outbid at the end, he swore loudly. Ianto took the chance to comfort him. A few pitying looks came their way.

Jack leaned on his shoulder. "Now they know what we're here for. Keep your eyes peeled. Someone will make us an offer on the side."

Ianto kissed his forehead. "How much can I spend?"

"Nothing. Tell them I need to see it, because I'm the tech, and we've been swindled before."

They broke apart as the auction continued. The next item up was a phase shifter, a handy device temporarily rendering the user out of phase. Used correctly, it left bank vaults, safe rooms, and the most secure facilities open to someone walking right through the walls. Uncalibrated, damaged, or in the hands of a novice, the owner would find him or herself permanently entombed within whatever material was being traversed when the device switched back to normal. Shifters were highly illegal in every sector. Jack and Ianto owned two.

A bidding war broke out between two parties: a richly-garbed insectoid with bluish chitin, and a rough-looking humanoid, multi-eyed and silvery. The humanoid shouted his bids. The insectoid clicked hers back, always higher.

Jack took a spare seat beside one of the better-dressed audience members, and began conversing in a language Ianto didn't speak. As the bids got crazier, Jack came back. "Huh. She's been buying these up. Word is, she's got something guarded and she doesn't want anyone breaking in to steal it, so she's snapping up the shifters before the thieves can."

"You're thinking we can sell her our spare."

"I'm thinking we can sell her our spare and still take a look at what she's got locked up. Might be worth coming back here later. We'll keep it in mind." That was Jack all over, looking forward to the next job. They likely wouldn't take whatever the insect was hiding, but information might be what they needed someday to grease another transaction. The last time they'd pulled a job like this, the (almost) impenetrable fortress had held well-heeled prisoners awaiting ransom, all of whom had been very generous in their gratitude towards their rescuers. The Foundation's account had grown prodigiously as a result of their appreciation.

The shifter sold to the insectoid for a significant sum. Bidding began for the next item, a rare artefact from a dead species. Ianto thought he recognised something similar that fell through the Rift once.

Before he could edge closer to take a look, the humanoid who'd lost the auction shouted angrily and fired a weapon that had to have been stowed as well as Jack's. The insectoid's bodyguard covered her. Ianto lost sight as panic broke out. Members of the audience saw their opportunity to settle old scores, start new ones, or just begin taking what they wanted from the goodies on display. Honour among thieves, and all that, Ianto thought, and then glimpsed Jack making a beeline for the auction items. In the fray, one of the containers tipped over. What very well could be Bob's time machine spilled to the floor with a lot of other alien tech. The heavies hired to protect the auctioneer and the goods were split between gathering up the loose junk and keeping the silvery humanoid's friends from strangling the auctioneer.

Jack was the second one to reach the box. The first was a Dolesh, who extended one meaty paw to grab a different device, even as the heavies fired a warning shot.

The light should have been bright, Ianto thought later. That would have been proper space-stuff. But no, instead of bright, there was an oily darkness surrounding the table and extending in a large sphere, which collapsed with an air-rush into the empty space left behind, and turned into a gale blowing out through the hole formed in the outer bulkhead.

Ianto lost his footing and he clawed for purchase that wasn't available as he was pushed towards the new hole and the dark gleam of space outside. Bodies, chairs and decorations flew with him, right before the emergency forcefield activated over the area, sealing the hole. Ianto fell through the matching hole in the floor to the stateroom below, and smacked his head hard on something as he landed.

He had time to wonder where Jack had been taken before unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

><p>tbc<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

><p>Ianto woke up in a cell. Again.<p>

_Dear Rhiannon, this is the eighth time I've woken up in an alien gaol. No, I tell a lie, it's the ninth. Dad warned me this would happen._

As his thoughts cleared, he set aside the mental letter. He always felt better when pretending he could still communicate with people he'd loved. As a coping mechanism, it worked wonders. As a survival tool, talking to himself wasn't going to get him anywhere. Mindful of any injuries he didn't know about, Ianto sat up and just missed whacking his skull on the bunk above him.

The forcefield he'd heard even in his semi-conscious state, the one that told him "prison," glowed over the entrance of the cell. His aching head had been bandaged with the plasticine-analogue common in this era. His parched mouth didn't taste like anything unfortunate had been put into it. He was still wearing what he insisted on thinking of as the miniskirt but at least he was also still wearing his underwear. All in all, he was breaking even.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello," said a familiar voice, and Bob's face entered his view of the outer room. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"Where's Ja… Where's Twil?"

"Missing. So are three others. Base security are furious. Heads will roll." Bob spoke in a monotone, as if he'd heard or said this several times already. His eyeroll sealed the impression.

"Why are you here?"

"To pay your bail. I've already told security everything, so the cover story doesn't matter now." Bob nodded to someone Ianto couldn't see, and then said in Standard, "He's awake."

Ianto's brain caught up with what his ears had been telling him. "You speak English."

"It's handy." Bob stepped aside for the guard to unlock the cell. The forcefield fell. Ianto exited before the guard changed her mind.

"You need to sign out," said the guard, a sinewy figure that Ianto knew could easily wrap firmly around him and crush him like a can. She led him to the entrance to the Base's gaol, where he filled out the form with his current alias and was handed back the credit slips found on him.

When he was officially a free man, Ianto asked, "Is there any word about my partner?"

"Investigation pending," said the guard.

"Do we have some idea who was responsible for taking him?"

"Investigation pending."

He let his voice crack. "Is he still alive?"

"Investigation … "

" … pending. Yes, thank you." He turned to Bob, who only shrugged. "Let's go back to the ship. I need clothes."

Bob held out a sack. "These seemed more your style than his."

Ianto peered in to find a change of his own clothes. "Thanks. How did you get onto the ship?"

He patted the book. "I knew the code."

Ianto rankled at the thought of the stranger in their quarters, rifling through his things, but he took the sack anyway.

After Ianto changed and used the local sanitation facility, they sat at a seedy café to eat and plan. Their breakfast was a wide yeast bread with a ladleful of stewed vegetables in a thin, potatoey sauce, and a cool beverage that tasted of burnt nutmeg. Ianto was ravenous, eyeing the remnants of Bob's meal when he'd downed his own. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Nearly a full day. The doctor induced extra sleep to help along your healing."

Ianto touched the plasticine again. "How bad was it?"

Bob shrugged. "You're alive, you've got all your limbs and motion." He took a drink and scowled at the cup as he set it down.

"I take it this wasn't true of everyone."

"Four deaths. There were injuries, some severe. Five people were blown out into space, but they were retrieved by transmat. Two of them might not make it."

"And there's no sign of Jack." He hadn't meant to use the name, but it wasn't as if Bob didn't already know.

"Not yet."

"How does he get out of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have Jack's autobiography. You said he wrote about this time period. What happens?" Ianto had considered the problem as he'd washed his face and hands in the sanitation facility. Bob was from the future. Bob had read about their exploits. He should know how they got out of this mess. He might be averse to telling fortunes, but he could give Ianto a clue.

"This adventure never made it into the book." Bob leaned back in his chair, an arm slung with false casualness over the back. "I thought it meant the event was so uninteresting he didn't bother recording it."

"Or he doesn't remember it later." Which could be for any reason, Ianto knew. Retcon, memory wipes, time loop, Jack had gone through all of them at some point. Honestly, it was a wonder his brain hadn't given in either from the sheer number of memories he carried, or from the damage created by those that had been excised.

"It's possible that, now he knows I'll be reading, he doesn't want to pollute the timeline later by giving me spoilers. No way to know."

"No." Ianto played with his knife. "You know he can't die. Wherever he is, he's alive, and he may be in pain. He's my first priority now. I don't care if you get your time manipulator back."

"That's fair, although I don't relish spending the rest of my life in this time period. There are so many better ones."

"I'll take your word for it." But all he could think about was home, and all he could remember were the faces of friends. Bob could travel through time and space, and he used that power to sell antiques. If Ianto had the ability, he could go back to see Rhi and the children and everyone again. God, he could go back and stop the 456 from the beginning, stop this whole mad chain of events.

On the bad nights, he often speculated this was the reason someone had picked up the Time Agency's toys and put them safely away.

"While the investigation is pending," Bob said, imitating the guard's accent, "we can talk to the other patrons of the auction, see if they know anything."

"The auction was illegal. They won't want to talk."

"Then we'll encourage them." 

* * *

><p>They started with the insectoid, Madame Kikikika. Her bodyguard had been killed in the fray, and she wore the deep purple robes of mourning. She lay on her reclining web in her quarters and would not speak to them directly. Her majordomo, a young female with a name Ianto could not pronounce, answered for her mistress.<p>

The answers were primarily "No."

"But surely you know why that man was trying to kill you?"

"Madame has no idea who he was, and she does not wish to sully herself with the knowledge. He died by his own folly." The humanoid had been killed by crossfire.

Bob kept prodding. "And why did he go after her?"

"He wanted the shifter for himself, obviously."

"Enough to kill for it?"

"Who can say what a criminal will do in pursuit of his crime? Madame is in mourning for her lost companion, as you mourn yours."

Ianto said, "My companion is alive, wherever he is. I need to find him. If Madame has any information, she would have my deepest gratitude."

"You think a small bribe will change her answer? Madame is the wealthiest of her brood." The majordomo extended her mandibles in offence.

"I did not mean to give offence," Ianto said. "As you said, I mourn."

"She understands."

They were escorted out soon after, with no more questions answered. Ianto banked his own anger for the time being. "Save it up," Jack always said. "Use it when you need it, don't waste it."

"Who next?"

Bob checked the list he'd made. "Another of the high bidders. An Altan. Know the species?"

"They're bastards," Ianto said. "We've been hired by Altans before, or they've tried, but mercenary work isn't our style."

"Did you aggravate one enough to be targeted?"

"We weren't the targets."

"You don't know that," said Bob. "Maybe Jack was the target and the auction was a ruse. Someone knew you were coming and wanted payback."

"It's possible, but unlikely."

Bob was the only one who'd known, and he'd been the one to arrange their presence. Just because he'd floated the idea didn't absolve him from suspicion. Ianto liked this job less and less every minute.

They made their way to an adjoining corridor which housed the wealthiest travellers at the Base, their rooms guarded by large aliens with big guns and little imagination. Three of these stood in front of the Altan's door. They were not inclined to give Ianto and Bob passage.

"This is urgent," said Ianto. "It has to do with last night's auction."

Bob said, "We know about the device." This struck a chord with one of the guards.

Ianto played along, though he had no idea what Bob meant. "But we will only speak to your employer."

The first guard sent one of its fellows inside while Ianto and Bob maintained cool faces. When the guard returned, they were brought inside the stateroom, which was far more lush than the insectoid's had been. The internal temperature was set high. Pools of bubbling liquids turned the whole suite into a sauna. A fine perspiration broke out on Ianto's brow.

"Where is the device?" the Altan demanded.

"Safe," said Ianto. "Where are the prisoners?"

"Prisoners?"

Ianto couldn't read the faces on this species very well, but the Altan was doing a passable take on "surprised."

"Those who went missing have been taken somewhere."

The Altan waved a huge paw, dismissing him. "They are dead."

Jack was alive, wherever or whenever he had been taken. Knowing Jack, he was chatting up his guards, easing out of his confinement and working his way back to them. But what if he wasn't, couldn't? Decades had passed, and Ianto still sometimes woke in the darkness of their quarters, the thrum of the ship's engines around him and Jack not in their bunk, and Ianto's heart would be in his mouth, the fear present and real that Jack was encased in concrete or buried under the earth. Not dead didn't equal not suffering.

"Do you know where the bodies are?"

"Vaporised." The Altan didn't care, but again, no-one from his party had been taken.

"Did you kill them?" Ianto asked.

"No."

"Then help us find who did," said Bob.

"Maybe you did. Kill your partner, take his share of the profits."

The banked anger came boiling to the surface. "How dare you."

The Altan's expression didn't change. "The device is mine. Bring it to me."

"Not until our friend is returned to us," said Bob.

The Altan's guard advanced, giving Ianto and Bob no room except behind them. "Bring the device," the Altan said, "or you will join your friend in death."

"Time to go," said Bob, and he tugged on Ianto's arm. The door slid open at their backs, and there was enough space between the guards to rush through. The fastest-witted one fired at their retreating steps - Ianto felt a hot blaze go by his ear - and then they were around the corner and running through the expensive corridors where the Altan did not want to make enemies.

"Fantastic," Ianto said, when they were far enough away to rest. "Now we owe the Altan a device we don't have, and we're still no closer to finding Jack. I hope you're happy."

"If you have a better plan than interrogating the other witnesses, feel free to share."

The scowl had returned, and that's when Ianto saw it, in the turn of his chin and the flash of fire in his eyes, like setting two photographs next to one another for the first time. A mix of emotions moved through Ianto, and he had to turn away.

"You know," he said casually. "You look like your mother."

The other man startled. "I don't know what you mean."

Ianto's anger and adrenalin had faded. Now he was merely tired and feeling his age. "Did Alice tell you that we were stuck together for a few months? We weren't friends exactly, but we got to know each other. I was very used to her annoyed look. There, you're doing it again."

The scowl shifted into a hesitant smile. "She told me. You gave her the nanogenes."

"Does Jack know?"

"Your Jack doesn't and can't. It'll be thousands of years for him."

"Steven … "

"Call me Bill."

"Bob."

"Whatever. He can't find out. Timelines. He didn't know that I was coming back."

Ianto tried to understand, but the little time travel he'd done hadn't involved much worrying about conflicting timelines, and the one incident that had been a concern turned out to be a time loop he'd always been part of. "It would make him so happy."

"And it will, someday. Just not today. This isn't easy on me, either, you know." Steven rested against the bulkhead of the corridor, and now that Ianto knew what to look for, he recognised movements and mannerisms, heard the little verbal tics to which he was so accustomed that they'd become unnoticeable. "Granddad practically raised me after Mum brought me back."

Ianto remembered Alice's pain, remembered how much she'd loved her son, could not picture her letting him out of her sight ever again. "Did she die?"

"My personal timeline hasn't run into hers at that point." Steven shrugged. "I tried living with her, but her life is so unpredictable, and Jenny said it was too dangerous. Hilda didn't like me much, either. Jenny said it was sibling rivalry. I say Hilda needs a damn adjustment to her logic circuits."

Ianto cracked a smile. The truculent AI on Jenny and Alice's ship had a mind of her own.

"I lived with him," Steven said, "and Mum came to visit when she could. We had a little seaside house on a colony world. My cousins lived close by. I never wanted for playmates."

Cousins? Logic filled in: Jack would have more grandchildren someday, more children, would marry perhaps hundreds of times. Thousands. His memoirs were crammed with names, the thoughtful records of his lovers and offspring past. It was easy to consider them as part of that past, another to look forward and know vast numbers were yet to come.

Steven's face stilled. "Every night I went to sleep listening to the rush of the waves, and every morning I woke up to the seabirds. They made this noise, almost like a scream. It used to scare me until Granddad taught me how to listen to the differences in the cries, which ones meant good morning, and which meant they were hungry, or to stay away from their nests atop the rocks.

"We had a boat, not much more than a skiff with a little sail. I spent a third of my days out in the water, learning to pilot her, or fishing, or just floating to see where the wind took us. We'd navigate by the stars at night to come back home. I was never, ever afraid, because I knew he was there with me to protect me. None of that has happened for him yet. And yes, I want to tell him now, and I want to have him treat me like he loves me instead of like a stranger, but this is how things are."

There had been a flat in a tower, and a Jack who hadn't known him, either, and Ianto understood. "I won't tell your secret." 

* * *

><p>Jack woke up handcuffed to a wall. Having started many a pleasant day in this fashion, he didn't immediately worry, instead rewinding through foggy memories to figure out where he was, whom he was with, and if they were cute. Everything else tended to sort itself out once he'd established the basics.<p>

Which were …

Dark cell, mostly stone, damp and chilly. Okay, not an auspicious start. He had a roommate, an unconscious Dolesh who was also attached to the wall. Doleshi were technically on Jack's overall ala carte approach to the great sexy menu of life, but were listed well beneath the cheese sampler and just above the proverbial boiled spinach side dish. He sighed. He had to get to that "sorting out" bit sooner rather than later.

Memories recent and not so recent reasserted themselves: self-imposed exile for the duration of his first lifetime in the 51st century, unexpected but welcome reunion with an old lover, a new career adventuring out amongst the stars. He remembered their client and the auction, and he remembered his own attempt to steal the time machine back. Everything else was outlined in a head-throbbing grey blur, followed by the handcuffs.

"Hey, pal, do you know where we are?"

The Dolesh didn't stir. Jack refused to speculate he'd misread "unconscious" for "dead." Imprisonment meant they were wanted and needed for something. Allowing the prisoners to die didn't bode well for good treatment until Ianto figured out where Jack was and rescued him.

"Pal?"

No answer.

Jack tested the cuffs and the chains, but other than advances in materials, these weren't much different from any other set he'd ever been bound by, willingly or no. Given enough leverage, he might be able to do the old "pull the chains out of the wall, with or without dislocating my own shoulders" trick. He'd put that plan on the back-burner for now.

He hoped the bad guy would show up soon. That made things so much more convenient. A little banter, maybe (he hoped not, but he'd been through this before) a little light to moderate torture, and Jack would know who had him and why and what could be done about it. Worse was the possibility that the bad guy wasn't keeping him or his roommate alive, that they'd been tossed here, wherever "here" was, to be forgotten. Starving to death slowly in the dark over and over would be a new hell. Jack would survive for hundreds or thousands of years until the cell itself crumbled around him with only the Dolesh's decaying corpse for company, and Ianto would be long dead all over again.

Funny where the mind went when left alone to eat itself in fear. 

* * *

><p>Ianto and Steven had no better luck with their additional inquiries. The Doleshi had been interrogated and released, and were nowhere to be found. The other witnesses claimed to have seen no more than Ianto had, and knew less.<p>

"They're lying," Steven said after another door was slammed in their faces. "Someone is lying."

"It might've been an accident," Ianto replied without conviction. He checked off another lead on his list with a sigh.

Steven fell into step beside him. Ianto kept to himself his observation that all Steven was missing was a billowing coat. "I doubt that."

"As do I, but it's not impossible. One piece of technology might have interacted badly with another. That happened to us in Torchwood. Put one radio from Clom next to a broken Podisi aquarium vacuum, and the next thing you know, half the Assembly looks like Admiral Ackbar and then not only do you have to reverse the process, but distribute Retcon and fake an entire science fiction convention on five minutes' notice."

Steven grinned with a familiar twist to his lips. "That was the fault of your predecessor, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Who went on to blow herself up when she filed two incompatible artefacts together. Proper organisation systems are underrated."

"So I've heard." He peered over Ianto's shoulder. "Who's next?"

"There are a pair of Byzars we haven't ... " They turned a corner.

The Ilian rested its slick hide against the bulkhead. Were it human, Ianto would think its pose casual. He couldn't read this body language at all. He nodded politely as he and Steven walked by.

He wasn't at all surprised when the Ilian said, "Humans. You are seeking your lost fellow." There was a distinct hiss at each "s" and Ianto was put uncomfortably in mind of a snake as the Ilian detached from the wall and undulated their way.

"We are," Steven said. Ianto saw the outline of his pistol under his travelling cloak.

"I have information."

Ianto made a formal short bow. "We would be grateful for any help." He took quick stock: the Ilian wore the simple clothes of a trader, and he had the same thin, piercing expression Jack did when he was working a deal. "We can pay."

"I need help, not credits."

"All right." Ianto glanced at Steven, but Steven was a stranger to this time. This was Ianto's trade to negotiate. "Would you care to discuss the matter over a drink?"

"No. There's an item I require." The Ilian held up a hologram. "Bring it to me, and I will tell you what I know."

Ianto drew closer to inspect the hologram. "I don't recognise this."

"I do," said Steven. "It's a Brinsin detonator. With the right fuel source, it could take out a star system. They're banned where I'm from."

The Ilian bowed its head. "Your partner," this was to Ianto, with the inflections indicating marital status as well as business associate, "indicated you were willing to perform actions not currently endorsed by the authorities in this sector, for the right price."

Ianto already hated this deal. "The price would be high."

"What is the worth of your partner's life?"

"Are you the kidnapper?" Steven's hand went to his side, near the gun.

"Merely an interested third party. Do we have an agreement?"

Ianto said, "I don't know where we'd find your device. I'm not going to waste time searching when I could be looking for him."

"I know the location."

"We're in," said Steven. 

* * *

><p>The Ilian claimed the Marnites had the Brinsin detonator with them, and that it hadn't been for sale at the auction. Ianto didn't remember the Ilian at the auction but couldn't say for certain if he'd seen the detonator amongst the other items for sale. This added one more worry to his list. If Jack had been taken, his captors might now possess the potential to destroy a star system. Ianto wasn't any happier about the Marnites holding that power, or if it came down to it, the Ilian.<p>

Three bad options, and no time to look for a fourth. Fantastic.

Steven spent two hours on the project, sending Ianto scavenging for spare parts around the ship. "I could do a better job with more time," he said, handing Ianto a fake detonator. "It's not a perfect copy."

Ianto inspected the casing, but he wasn't familiar with Brinsin technology. He thought it looked like the hologram. "It'll have to do. We don't have to fool them long."

Together they returned to the level where the Marnites stayed. Steven approached their door, whilst Ianto knocked quickly at the door to an adjacent cabin. Thankfully, there was no answer.

"Good luck," Steven said. Ianto wet his lips nervously, then activated his phase shifter. This was dangerous as hell on board a space station. As he materialised on the other side of the door, he heard Steven signal for entrance at the Marnites' door.

The bulkhead muffled the argument. Steven shouted at the aliens for stealing his time machine, demanding immediate repayment and threatening to take them to the law. Shouts on both sides grew louder. Most of the flock would soon be by the door to argue with the interloper.

Ianto hoped Steven didn't get himself shot.

When he was sure the Marnites were distracted, he shifted into their quarters. The filthy cabin revolted him, discarded feathers and food detritus piled in heaps all over the floor. The smell was worse, part guano, part mouldy meat. Ianto wanted to retch.

Where would they keep a deadly system-destroying weapon in this mess? And how long could Steven keep them distracted while he looked?

Ianto hurried, holding his nose with one hand, moving things lightly to the side with the other. He'd need a bath after this. The shouts were close by, but he refused to worry. He would find the detonator. Surely they kept their stolen goods somewhere safe. Ianto checked a bedroom. In the dim light, he made out two small, undressed Marnites slumbering together fitfully in a nest of rubbish. Hatchlings? They treated their children this way? He had no way to know. He moved silently, aware of time trickling away from him.

It was in the second bedroom, amongst what to his eye looked like drugs paraphernalia. The gems from the auction were on a tabletop, one crushed and the sparkling powder placed in a scaly, dirty pot with an acrid-smelling solution. The detonator was shoved to the back of the table out of the way, like a useless paperweight.

Ianto quickly stowed the real detonator in his rucksack and swapped it with what he hoped would be a passable fake. With a last look around, he listened at the door to the continued shouts, then let himself out. He found the wall he'd come through, mindful of exactly where he stood so he didn't rematerialise halfway inside a cabinet, and shifted back to the empty cabin.

He touched his ear.

A minute later, the shouts reached a fever pitch. He heard Steven storm away, threatening to come back with base security. When Ianto was sure the coast was clear, he reappeared in the corridor. Right in front of a young couple, Aldorians from the look of them. Fuck.

He smiled. "Just inspecting the walls. Wouldn't want them to be too solid." He rapped his knuckles on the door as they stared.

Then he fled.

Steven met him at the lousy café. Ianto removed a smaller sack from his rucksack and held it on his lap while Steven contacted the Ilian. They ordered their meal and waited.

"My thanks," said the Ilian, joining them at the table, a third bowl of crispy noodles at its place. It began to eat with quick dips of its long neck into the bowl, snapping up noodles in powerful, slim jaws and crunching them loudly.

Ianto placed his hands firmly over the sack. "We've done you a favour. We'd like to request one in kind."

"May I see it?" The Ilian's eyes sharpened as Ianto opened the sack, gave him a glimpse of the device, and hid it away again. "Your partner has been taken."

"Where?"

"Who can say?" As it spoke, its tongue darted out, tasting the air.

Steven smiled tightly. "If you want this, you can. Where is he?"

"Now? I don't know. The transmat was powerful. It could reach the next system."

Ianto's stomach fell. He'd hoped Jack was still somewhere on the base. "Are you certain?"

"I sold it at auction days ago."

Steven asked, "To whom?"

"I forget faces so easily."

Ianto made a fist under the table. "Whoever bought your transmat has our friend. Tell us who it is, or you're not getting this detonator."

Ianto was expecting the weapon before it was in his face, but he'd wanted to be wrong. "I gave you information, as we arranged. Your partner was not killed, but taken with a long-range transmat. What you do with the knowledge that he lives is not my concern. If you do not wish to honour our agreement, then I will take back my information by ensuring you remember nothing ever again."

Its voice stayed calm. Ianto couldn't help noticing that no-one batted an eye stalk at them.

"Here." He handed over the sack. "Much good may it do you."

The Ilian opened the sack again to check Ianto hadn't palmed the device somehow, then nodded and dropped the weapon. It didn't turn his back on them as it slithered away, but Steven and Ianto both kept clear of their own weapons until it was long gone.

Ianto let out a breath. Then he picked up his spoon and took one more bite of his supper. Like the drinks, the noodles weren't bad after he was used to the taste. "How much time do you think we have?"

"It's in a hurry, and it's checked twice. An hour or so." Steven pushed his own plate aside. "I could have done a better job with more time."

Ianto hadn't wanted to spend time. He'd wanted to chase after Jack as soon as they had their lead. "Let's go."

They left money for the food on the table and walked purposefully, not fleeing, not running, back to the _Celes Tirra_ before the Ilian discovered they'd presented it with a second faked detonator.

They boarded the ship. Ianto held out hope that Jack had already made his way back from wherever he'd gone, sending a message or stretching out naked in their bunk. No such luck. He stowed the real detonator in the secure hold until he could ask Jack how to dispose of it safely.

"Keep an eye on the local chatter," Ianto said. "I need a wash."

The _Celes Tirra_ had an honest-to-God shower with a tub. Certain comforts were set by agreement, and Ianto's preference for showers with water instead of sonic waves had neatly dovetailed Jack's preference for long, hot, bubble-filled soaks. Finding and maintaining thousands-year-old plumbing fixtures proved an interesting challenge, as did compensating for the extra water they had to carry, but Ianto felt the luxury was well worth the hassle.

After his shower, Ianto dressed and let himself out into the main cabin, where Steven played with the transceiver, listening for more distant signals. The expression on his face told Ianto enough.

Steven stretched. "Mind if I wash next?"

"Go ahead, but be careful, the dial sticks."

Steven's loud gasp of joy at seeing the shower stall was another perk, if one tinged with sadness that Jack couldn't be here to appreciate it.

Ianto went back to scanning the local frequencies. Any rumour would do, any suspicion. Nothing. Not even the coded channels, which were much easier to crack than the messengers thought, yielded up a single crumb of useful information.

Angry and frustrated, he began pacing the small corridors of the ship. Where would Jack look? What would he do that Ianto hadn't thought of? The last time Ianto had been captured - he'd been taken by bounty hunters working for a disgruntled magistrate, and honestly, it had been a deeply stupid law anyway - Jack had literally moved mountains to get him back in one piece. Ianto could and would do no less now.

_Dear Gwen, I've got a bit of a problem. I'm trying to think like Jack, and that never works out well. As you know, he always … _

His pacing had brought him to Steven's open cabin, where his clothes and belongings were piled. Ianto's eyes caught on one particular possession.

It was right there. No-one, least of all Jack, could have blamed him for wanting to take a peek. Timelines, yes, fine, but Ianto could keep secrets. He'd helped Jack edit the early drafts. Surely he wouldn't drop into a conversation, "Did you know you're going to run into Jinkian pirates in ten thousand years and shag their leader?"

Ianto triggered the controls for the book, setting the language to English.

He skimmed a few chapters, old events that had taken place before he'd even been born, intrigues and liaisons he'd helped Jack tidy up in his memoirs, not dangerous to know. He was curiously pleased to see certain turns of phrase he'd suggested show up in the final work, which he knew wouldn't be published until long after his death.

Maybe he said it out loud. The chapter changed. For a moment, Ianto thought he was reading an account of the Thames House disaster: an alien threat, impossible odds. But Ianto had never visited a planet named Chylla. He turned the virtual page rapidly, heart pounding, though his eyes caught enough words to put meaning to the rest.

He didn't have a time frame, but now he knew.

Pages later, his eyes caught more, and he closed the book file.

_"I was so angry with him. He was supposed to have the nanogenes. He was supposed to be okay, and instead he was dead all over again, like he didn't care, like he didn't even want to try. I blew out my vocal cords screaming at him, not that he heard me."_

"I should have told you it was sports scores."

Ianto spun, saw Steven watching him from the corridor, clad in just a towel.

"It's my fault," Steven said. "I couldn't have resisted either. What did you see?"

Ianto couldn't answer.

Steven nodded, understanding. "As I said, you can't tell him, you never told him. When he met me again, I think he forgave you then."

A hard lump formed in Ianto's throat, which he swallowed away. "He doesn't find you again for thousands of years, does he?"

"Tens of thousands."

"And he's going to be angry with me that entire time, for … " He didn't want to say the words. "For leaving him alone."

"He will understand someday. I promise. I grew up knowing your name."

"I didn't think it would be a swear word."

He'd never been able to ask anything of Jack, and what Jack gave him freely, absently - shelter, loyalty, part of his life and his heart - he only gave (Ianto suspected) because they had never been requested. The one thing he dared say, "This is what I want of you," was for Jack to hold him in his memories. For three thousand years, Jack had kept that promise, losing and finding his name again, committing the past to paper. But from now? Past this? Jack would remember Ianto, Steven was proof, but the memory would be filled with anger and grief for ten thousand years at least until Alice brought Steven to him and told Jack the truth.

Steven watched him. "You can't tell him," he said again, and there was sympathy, and finality, in his words.

An alarm sounded. Ianto dashed out of Steven's room, headed for the cockpit. Were they under attack? Was the base endangered?

His racing heartbeat settled: one of his own alarms had been triggered. He'd left searches running for any unusual activity amongst the suspects. Madame Kikikika and her party had left the base abruptly, and base security thought they were in pursuit of the Doleshi.

The insects knew where Jack was. 

* * *

><p>tbc<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

><p>The Dolesh wasn't dead, not yet, and in that Jack found some hope. He came around, huge and hungry, a few hours after Jack did. "Where is this?"<p>

"I wish I knew. You don't recognise the place?"

The Dolesh looked around them in the low light, blinking reptilian eyes until the pupils were dilated fully. "No."

"Damn."

"Are there others?"

"Nobody I've seen." Jack scraped his memories, but he'd been right up at the podium reaching for the time machine, which was now nowhere to be seen. He had no idea who else might have been taken when the other device went off. "The device. The one you were reaching for. What was it?"

"Nothing. A family heirloom. Sentimental value."

Jack sighed. 

* * *

><p>Ianto traced what communications he could. His translator only made sporadic sense of the insectoid's native language, leaving him to guess at the gaps. But if the Doleshi had Jack, or knew where he was, Ianto had to follow.<p>

He readied the ship, forcing himself to go through the pre-flight list one item at a time. He'd hurt the engines enough. Getting them stranded in the middle of nowhere because of his haste wouldn't help Jack. As he let the engines warm up properly, he filed an impromptu flight plan with the Dock Master.

_"Transport _Celes Tirra_, do not launch."_ The Dock Master's voice was staticky but firm. _"Clearance denied."_

"_Celes Tirra_ to dock. Why not? The flight path is clear."

_"Negative. Do not launch."_

As he listened to the other transmissions, and watched the tracker on his screen, he saw the insectoid's ship getting further and further away. "_Celes Tirra_ launching," he said. And then he added, "Sorry. By the by, you should tell base security the Marnites on Level Four are running a drugs den, and they may be endangering their offspring."

He broke the clamps on the docking ring, feeling the metal give way in a groan that shook the ship. That would be a repair job for later, assuming he survived this.

Then he remembered, and he let out a short laugh. One less thing to worry about. Ianto would be safe until he came to Planet Chylla.

He guided the ship away from the base, ignoring the shouts from the Dock Master over the speakers. Jack could do this with his eyes closed, and put a nice waggle on the wings for show. Ianto was pleased to make it out without being shot at.

The cockpit door slid open. Steven staggered in, hair sodden, grasping for handholds on the bulkhead. "What the hell?"

"We're following a lead." He set the flight path to match Madame Kikikika's ship, hanging back enough that, with luck, the other ship's sensors wouldn't notice. What would Jack do? Ianto plugged in a program Jack had written that mimicked the more erratic flight pattern of space junk. It was hell on their fuel economy, but served as an easy disguise when they didn't want to be seen.

"Madame Kikikika just took off," he explained, as Steven sat in the other seat. "Scuttlebutt says she's going after the Doleshi."

"Because she thinks they did it?"

"That's my guess. It's all we've got." Ianto turned back to his sensors. "The trick is going to be getting to them before she does. If this is her play for vengeance, she'll shoot first."

"Not that I like the idea, but if they kill him, he will get over it."

"Your machine might be destroyed. You'd never get home." He made a final check to their course, then turned in his chair. "I'd rather you not live out your days hiding from him just to protect the timeline." Ianto had almost gone that route himself, once.

"Thanks."

"Thank me when we've got Jack and your time machine both safe." 

* * *

><p>Being held in chains presented problems with which Jack was too well acquainted. The muscle and joint strains were old friends, if the kind of old friend who liked to kick him in the shins whenever they met. The near impossibility of sleep was another familiarity, though he functioned without it. Even the boredom was typical. He'd tried to chat up his lethargic companion, who had started whimpering in pain an hour ago.<p>

Jack felt bad for him, but what could he do? Tell the Dolesh, "Sorry, buddy, it's going to hurt, and it's going to keep hurting until your muscles turn to ice, and then to pins and needles, and finally every movement you make, no matter how small, is going to be pure agony, and there's nothing you can do about it"? What would be the point?

Worse than the pain, he was going to pee himself any minute now. Jack hated peeing himself, though not as much as soiling himself, which was also on the horizon the longer he stayed locked up. Imprisonment could be pretty damn disgusting, as well as painful.

He tested the chain again. Solid. There was some give at the manacles on his wrists. He could break his hands and be free to remain stuck in a locked cell.

The Dolesh whined again. Poor guy.

Jack counted inside his head, ignoring his headache. He went to five hundred, and then a thousand, using his heartbeat as a measure. No captors, no rescuers, full bladder.

"Pal, I'm going to try to get free. This might be gross."

The pins and needles turned to fire as Jack flexed his arms and the sharp metal of the manacles dug into his hands. He grunted so he didn't scream as the flesh tore. He squeezed the thick part of his palm against the metal, pulling and tugging as he bled. Pain roared down his right arm as something broke and his hand slipped out of the manacle. His left was still held, hurting and bleeding, and Jack gave a loud growl as he put his full weight into it, ripping his hand free in one agonizing motion. He fell to the stone floor clutching his hands to himself, afraid to look in case the left was just a stump. After a few minutes, the painful tingle of nerves regrowing made him chance a quick peek. He'd pulled off a thick chunk of flesh, partially degloving the hand. Aching, Jack nudged the skin back into place as best he could with his broken right hand. He'd heal.

The Dolesh had stopped yelling, and stared at him in horror.

Jack managed a painful grimace. "Don't try that at home, okay, pal?"

At least he no longer had to pee. 

* * *

><p>His biggest worry had been a ship-to-ship battle, but as the other vessel neared its destination, Ianto relaxed. They were approaching a planet in a system he and Jack had never visited, but had passed by on runs. If the Doleshi had a head start and had gone to ground here, Ianto and Steven could track them down and rescue Jack.<p>

"Do you have any Argelite laser rifles?"

Ianto pulled out the knapsacks and began digging. "No."

"What about short-range stun grenades?"

"No."

"Do you at least have a biotracking scanner we can set to look for a human?"

"We do."

"Good."

"It's broken." They'd been meaning to get that repaired. Spilt milk. Ianto packed three compact pistols in each bag, along with extra charges. He grabbed one of the phase shifters in case they needed to break into someplace. He could have used that lockpick now, and took a breath to curse the thief again.

"All right." Steven rested against the bulkhead, watching Ianto. "What's the plan?"

"We follow them to their quarry. We get in there first. We rescue Jack. If we can find your time machine, we take that too. Then we run away. It would help if you had a means to track your time machine, but as you haven't volunteered one, I'll assume you don't."

Steven chewed his lip. "There's a way."

Anger rumbled in Ianto's stomach. "You should have said."

"I couldn't before. He would have asked how I knew. Where does he keep his Vortex Manipulator?"

"We put it away." Some places were dangerous for ex-Time Agents.

"His VM can monitor temporal fluctuations. If we're close by, I should be able to pinpoint the time machine." Steven rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture Ianto knew well. "I watched him set it up when I first started travelling. So he could always find me, and I could always make it home."

"Wait here."

Ianto went back to his and Jack's cabin, locking the door. The safe was bolted to the wall and floor, and the combination was the punchline to a joke only the two of them would ever understand. The well-oiled hinges opened at the top. They kept spare ID in here, names they needed official documentation for in some systems. Bank records for Jack's lesser-known accounts lay beside the papers for the Foundation, with the little book Ianto kept to track how much they'd added to its coffers. The few surviving photographs Jack had retrieved from the ruins of their home lay wrapped in protective sheets: a snap of his last wife, images of two children Ianto had never met, one of Alice resting her head on Jenny's shoulder. Ianto had no photos. His clearest memories of Rhiannon were from her teens, and some days he couldn't picture her children at all. He'd tried to draw Lisa once, but his artistic talents weren't up to capturing her eyes, her smile, and he had to settle for keeping her sharp in his thoughts.

Amongst the photographs, he found their marriage licence. This was handwritten on real, cream-coloured paper, and yielded up a woodpulp smell when Ianto brought the form close to his face.

They hadn't planned to get married, wouldn't have bothered had they not been stuck for a fortnight during a radiation storm preventing any ships from leaving. Bored and tooling around the small town nearest the spaceport, Jack had spied a sign advertising weddings. He'd nudged Ianto and asked, "Hey. Wanna do that? Might be fun."

Ianto hadn't caught on at first. "Why would we go watch people get married?" Before Jack could correct him, he'd gone further with that thought process. "Unless they get naked here for the weddings, and honestly you've seen enough naked aliens this week."

Jack's face had broken into a tender smile. "Try again."

Ianto had scowled and reread the sign, and the back of his brain, which had been paying closer attention than the rest of him, kicked him hard in the mental groin.

Ianto had used his real name. Jack had forgotten his own birth name, but said he always thought of himself as "Jack Harkness" around Ianto, no matter what pseudonym he was using at the time. The wedding had lasted fifteen minutes, most of which was taken up by the officiant's hazy recollections of human gods to invoke for the ceremony, none of whom Ianto had ever heard of. The rest was a walk-through of local marital expectations, which they both ignored in favour of mouthing their own quiet vows: _you are mine and I am yours, and I will love you for as long as I live._

Jack's wrist strap was under the licence, wrapped in tissue. Ianto put the rest back into the safe, locked it, and brought the strap to Steven.

"If he sees what you've done, he'll be onto you."

"I'll be careful." Steven opened the strap with ease, and began making modifications Ianto couldn't see. "You know, if this thing worked properly, I could just go."

For a second, Ianto thought that was precisely what would happen: someone pretending to be Jack's grandson had tricked Ianto into handing over the VM, and he would be gone in a flash. Steven's mouth quirked, as if reading his thoughts. "I wouldn't, you know. For one thing, he still has this when I'm a kid, and the Doctor gets very cross when we cause paradoxes. There. Better than a compass." He held up the strap for inspection. A small directional beacon beeped with a blue light.

The atmosphere on this world was low-oxygen. Ianto dug out the masks, and packed an extra for Jack. As soon as the ship was safely landed and cloaked, they began their journey on foot through the bitterly grey and rocky landscape. Steven led the way, helping Ianto climb over rock falls and past debris from some geological catastrophe long in the planet's history. The planet's rotation would leave this part of the world in dim twilight for days, making each step more treacherous even with the small torches they'd brought.

"This place isn't very hospitable," said Steven, as they rested for a moment beside a huge, cracked boulder, blood red minerals shocking amidst the grey. "Why would anyone settle here?"

In the distance, Ianto could make out artificial lights. Their goal wasn't far now. "Hide-out. Not many curious visitors to come calling."

"Ah."

Ianto took a deep breath through his mask, then returned to the hike. "Where will you go after this?"

"Actually, I was on my way to visit Granddad in a different time."

"You were?"

Steven nodded. "He gets lonely. The older he is, the faster he loses people. On the rare occasions he gets to see someone from his early days, he gets this smile like the universe is unfolding just for him, and he's so happy. I try to go see him when I can, just for that smile. Some people visit their grandparents on the weekends, I pop a few billion years into the future. I bring him trinkets to occupy his mind. He has a lot of time to think."

Ianto remembered Steven's cover story. "The game. You came back here to find one for Jack."

"Yeah. He loves puzzles and games."

"I know."

"It's weird going from one fact to another. For me, it's only a few minutes, but for him it could be millions of years."

"But he still knows who you are." It was half-question, half-wonder.

"Mum too. And the Doctor." Steven ticked off on his hands. "I've met four different versions so far."

Ianto had met two, and did not anticipate a third coming into his life. Jack of course would likely meet them all, eventually. Something had been plaguing Ianto about this whole situation, and he finally put on a finger on the problem. "Why do you travel? If you have everything you want in your time, why on Earth do you go gallivanting off through space and time? I don't believe it's solely to visit Jack."

"It's not." They climbed carefully across a rocky chasm, holding on to one another for support. The return trip would be difficult if Jack was injured. When they were past the obstacle, Steven said, "I work for him. Odd jobs. He has to be careful about crossing his own timeline. I don't have that problem."

Ianto pictured the "odd jobs" a much older Jack might have for Steven to do with a working time machine and Jack's unique knowledge of history. He'd ensure Steven possessed a detailed summary of places to go, or to avoid, whilst making the most delicate of changes.

Silence fell between them, save for the occasional crumble-thump of a bad step over the rocks. Ahead of them, Ianto could see lights flashing, but he heard no sounds of weapons fire. The insectoid must have come into the area by now, but hadn't yet attacked. All he could hope was that her presence provided enough of a cover that the Doleshi wouldn't notice the two new guests crawling into their territory. 

* * *

><p>Jack's hands healed painfully but cleanly. He managed to find a loose metal filing on the cold floor of the cell, and used it to pick the manacles holding his cellmate.<p>

"Gratitude," said the Dolesh when Jack finished.

"You're welcome. Now, pay me back by helping me break out of here."

The cell door was metal and locked, with no keyholes on this side of the door. That said electronic or two-person, and neither was helpful. They had one ventilation duct in the room, the diameter of a man's fist, on the ceiling. Still no food or water. "How often does your species eat?"

"Every six turns."

Jack's internal clock said they'd been here at least that long, probably longer. "Mine too." He hoped they weren't being left to starve on purpose, to dine on each other. For one thing, if the Dolesh had picked up on his little trick, Jack could serve as an all-you-can-eat buffet for the rest of time.

"Check your pockets. See if you have anything we can use to get out of here." Jack indicated his own miniskirt. "I'm not going to be much help, as you can see." He'd checked for his hidden weapons holster, but it was long gone. 

* * *

><p>Guards patrolled the near perimeter, hired help like the Altans used. Even they were paying closer attention to what was going on inside the compound than anyone who might be sneaking around outside. Ianto kept to the shadows while he moved into position to see what was happening.<p>

"That's her ship," he said. The outer hull was as iridescent as a carapace under the harsh floodlights, thrusters and weapons protruding around the rim like legs.

"Why did she land? If she's just here for revenge, she should have attacked."

Ianto watched the movement of figures beneath them. The outer guards were little better than hired thugs. The guards patrolling the area around the ship were insects. "This isn't the Doleshi hide-out. It's hers."

"Madame Kikikika? I don't get it. She won the item she wanted. She's rich. Why would she kidnap Jack?"

"I don't know." He'd met more than his share of rich beings who'd become that way due to past crimes. Madame Kikikika's presence at the auction suggested she wasn't averse to the idea of shady dealings. Ianto sat back against a rock and tried to think. "Who else was missing, other than Jack?"

"One of the Doleshi. The auctioneer. One of the auctioneer's guards."

Ianto observed the insect guards. While they kept to a pattern, the guards in the shiniest uniforms kept close watch on their handheld scanners. More than one cast glances up, heads curiously twisted on their spiny necks as they watched the skies.

"Work this through with me." Ianto kept himself to a whisper. "Suppose you knew there was a black market auction coming up with an item you really, really wanted. You could win it at the auction, but if you stole it, plus the other artefacts for sale, plus whatever the previous attendees had already paid, then you'd guarantee that you left with what you wanted, plus a tidy profit. Pay off the auctioneer to arrange an emergency transmat among the devices, and have him and his assistant bring everything to you."

Steven shook his head. "She lost a man in the fight."

"Every plan has casualties." He and Steven had both been casualties to bad plans. "Maybe the fight wasn't planned, and the auctioneer engaged the transmat before any of the loot could be stolen. They never intended to take Jack or the Dolesh, they were just in the way when the plan went off."

Steven thought it over. "Maybe."

"Keep it in your head. We don't know for certain, and if we're lucky, we won't have to care. We'll stick to our plan: find your time machine, find Jack, get out."

"I'll track my time machine. You find him."

Neither of them asked what would happen if Jack wasn't there. If the situation was as Ianto suspected, the brightest thing for the conspirators to do would mean airlocking the extra hostages. No witnesses. Jack might be floating in vacuum right now, unable to call for help, a tiny piece of flotsam in a vast expanse. Ianto could scour the area between here and the base for years and never find him.

"Meet back at the ship in three hours."

Steven nodded, then crawled over the rocks to another hiding place, and was gone. Ianto waited. When he saw a gap in the outer ring of guards, he let himself through, and waited for another gap to open in the inner ring. He made it to the wall of the citadel without being seen, and he hoped Steven had been as lucky.

The phase shifter always made him feel like his stomach was trying to climb out through his feet. He used it to get inside the building, emerging inside a small, dark room that appeared to be unoccupied.

He gave himself a moment to adjust, to take deep breaths through his oxygen mask.

Think. How could he find where the prisoners were bring kept? He was in a strange building, lurking around a species whose language he didn't speak, and Steven had the universal translator in Jack's VM. Eavesdropping would be pointless, so he had to rely on logic. Prisoners tended to be kept low or high. His gut said low, buried in a dungeon rather than locked in a tower. The phase shifter would take him to lower levels, if he was very careful and trusted there was a room under his feet.

"Stairs it is," he said quietly, and let himself out of the room. 

* * *

><p>The door to the cell opened. Jack wasn't prepared, but preparation wouldn't have helped. The Dolesh stood as an insectoid woman in fine purple robes was escorted in by guards. Behind her, the Pelloid who'd been serving as the auctioneer last night, or whenever it had been, scuttled into the cell.<p>

"They live, as I told you," said the Pelloid.

"That may be to our benefit. His people are searching for him."

Jack grinned. He'd known Ianto wouldn't be long. "Yeah, and you'd better hand me over before he gets really mad."

The insectoid turned to Jack, annoyance radiating from her. "What species is this one?"

"I believe they are called humans. It was at the auction."

"Yes." She clicked her mandibles. "Its mate offered me money for its return, but did not name a price and already had a secondary mate."

That sounded wrong to Jack's ears. Ianto had tried to bribe her to get him back? The "secondary mate" had to be Bob, and while Jack was sure Bob didn't have designs on mating with Ianto, Jack didn't like him any better for the rumour.

His confusion was cut short when the insectoid turned away, saying, "Kill them. Suffocation should suffice. Plant the bodies where the Doleshi will find them."

The Pelloid bowed and nodded. "Yes, Madame."

She twisted her head around. "I was not speaking to you." She nodded to the guards, who drew their weapons on the auctioneer.

"But Madame!"

"You are surplus to my needs." She left the cell, locking the auctioneer in with Jack and the Dolesh. The auctioneer pounded his fists on the closed door.

"Fantastic," Jack said. "Welcome to the party."

From above them, air began to hiss. Given the size of the ventilation duct and the room, they had maybe an hour left. Jack didn't like suffocating, but he'd died in worse ways. He was already light-headed, and as he thought back, he'd been light-headed for awhile. "Ah, damn." Low oxygen atmosphere. He revised his estimate of their lifespans.

He looked at the Dolesh. He still didn't know the guy's name. "I'm Twil. What's your family name?"

"Charnok."

He nodded. If he made his way back to the Dolesh's people, he could speak to the family. "It's going to hurt a little, when you start noticing the air is gone. You're going to gasp, but it won't last long. By that point, our brains will already be too oxygen-starved to care. It's not painful after that. I promise."

Charnok sat down on the cold floor. "My people are coming for me."

"Yeah. And they're going to find you too late. Sorry."

"She needs to let me go," said the auctioneer. "I helped her!" Jack patted him on the shoulder. He'd been duped by partners before, too. The Pelloid's face crumpled as he sat down despondently beside Charnok.

Charnok placed a big hand on the Pelloid's head and snapped his neck. As the cooling body toppled to the side like a sack of grain, Charnok said, "Now we will live a little longer."

* * *

><p>tbc<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

><p>Ianto heard the feet before he saw them, and threw himself against a wall, trying not to breathe loudly. If they turned the corner ...<p>

Madame Kikikika and her guards did not turn. They walked past Ianto without so much as a nod. He made himself hold still until he was sure they were gone, then went the way she'd come. Jack might not be down here at all. Jack might be gone, dying over and over.

He'd search every room if he had to.

Another turn found him near a corridor with a guard waiting outside one door. Whatever was in the room was valuable. Prisoner or prize, Ianto intended to find out. He went into the neighbouring corridor, lay against the wall, and activated the phase shifter.

The room he emerged into had three slumped bodies. One of them was Jack, covered in dried blood.

He bit back his shout. The room was likely monitored. If there was a camera, he was already spotted. Ianto went to Jack's side as fast as he could and felt for a pulse. After a few frantic tries, he found one, but it was weak. Ianto slung him over his shoulders as best he could and went back to the wall. Shifting two people required extra tweaks with the shifter, and he spent a long minute making sure he'd done it correctly. Jack might survive being cut into pieces by a wall but Ianto wouldn't.

They shifted out into the empty corridor, and Ianto collapsed against one wall with Jack's weight dragging them both down. "Jack," he whispered as loudly as he dared. "Jack, can you stand?"

There was no response. Ianto dug for the spare oxygen mask and put it over Jack's nose. He pressed on Jack's chest to help him breathe, pinching his mouth closed until he sucked in a deep breath through the filter.

"There you go," Ianto said, with a worried smile. "Just breathe."

Seconds ticked by. The corridor's cold sunk into him as he waited for Jack to rouse. Finally, he opened his eyes. When he saw Ianto, a smile crossed his face that made Ianto warm inside again. "Hey."

"When you can stand, we have to go."

"Where's Charnok?"

"St .. Bob's gone to get his time machine."

"No. Charnok. He was in the cell with me. Dolesh. Big guy."

"He's still in there."

Jack clutched Ianto's hand. "Get him. Please."

Ianto nodded. He kissed Jack's forehead, and then shifted back into the cell. The Dolesh was huge, and near death. The other body stared up with dead eyes. Ianto left it, hauling the Dolesh through the wall and to safety. The guard in front of the door never stirred.

As soon as the heavy body was beside him, Jack ripped off his mask and positioned it over the alien's face. He glanced up at Ianto. "Thanks."

"New friend?"

"Not really. But he didn't deserve to die."

Ianto counted quietly to himself, waiting for discovery, for alarm. Jack's recuperative powers restored life to him even as Ianto watched. The Dolesh required more time, more effort.

"We need to move," he said, as soon as Jack was upright. "We'll carry him together."

Jack himself wouldn't be fully up to strength without sufficient oxygen, but Ianto didn't dare pass over his own mask. They'd both be weakened, and someone had to be ready to shoot.

"Bob will meet us at the ship."

"How far away is it?"

As he hefted the Dolesh's bulk between them, Ianto said, "Far enough."

They struggled down the corridor away from the cells. Jack huffed with each step. "If it comes down to a fight, give me a pistol and leave me here. I'll cover your escape."

"Like hell. Move your arse."

Chuffing and stumbling, they made it back to the stairs, by which time the Dolesh had recovered enough to stagger with only a little support. These weren't human stairs, and the shallow, irregular incline hurt Ianto's knees. He didn't like to consider that he was getting old, but he would be sore after this adventure.

They almost made it out, too.

He heard the "snickt" of the weapons cocking even before he saw the guards, and by the time they'd spun to run, more guards were coming up behind them.

Jack turned to Ianto. He was tired, and his eyes sorrowful. "When they open fire," he said in English, "I'll try to fall on top of you. Play dead. There's a chance."

"I can reach our guns."

"Not before they kill you."

His mind raced. "Jack, what's the name of this planet?"

"I don't know. I ... "

The guards took aim. Charnok growled.

"Wait!"

The guards were well-trained. Only two looked to the noise. Steven stood at the far end of the corridor, his hands raised in surrender. "Please," he begged in Standard. "Please don't kill them."

The leader nodded to an underling, who approached him, then grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor, thrusting him into the tiny circle where Jack, Ianto, and Charnok waited to be executed.

The guard spoke into his handheld scanner. "Madame," said the translated voice from the Vortex Manipulator on Steven's arm, muffled by his shirt. "The prisoners attempted escape with assistance from two intruders. Awaiting orders."

A long silence stretched out. Unexpectedly, Steven took Ianto's hand. Then he winked. Ianto grabbed Jack and Charnok in an awkward grip as, with his other hand, Steven slid the hand-held time machine out of his other sleeve and hit a switch.

There was a sharp tug at Ianto's navel, the same sensation he always had while passing through the Vortex. The guards vanished. The citadel vanished. The four of them crashed to the ground roughly.

Someone who wasn't Ianto said, "Ow."

Ianto pulled away from the other bodies, touching Jack's neck for a pulse, then meeting his amused eyes. "I'm fine."

"Good here," Steven said, standing up and brushing himself off. He held out a hand to the Dolesh.

"Where are we?"

Steven pointed. Ianto turned and saw the _Celes Tirra_close by.

"Hurry," said Charnok. "They will pursue us."

"Not likely," Steven said. "I moved us back two hours. We haven't even reached the citadel yet."

Ianto asked, "Won't they notice us leaving?"

"Not if we're quiet," said Jack, and led them onto the ship. Charnok waited at the bottom of the gangplank. "Come on."

"No."

Jack tugged Ianto's arm, indicating he should board, and went back down to join the Dolesh. "Why not?"

"My people are looking for me. If they find me here, we can deal with the abductors directly."

"You sure?" Jack asked. Charnok nodded. "Wait here." Jack scampered up the gangplank again and dove into the supply cupboard. He emerged from the ship with a small beacon. "Use this to contact them. It's got a nice long range, and our friends back at the citadel shouldn't be able to pick it up."

"My thanks. When we meet again, you will have my gratitude, and that of my family."

Jack grinned in acknowledgement at one more favour to call in later.

* * *

><p>They docked at a space station three systems over, far enough from Lyndrica Base that the Altans wouldn't come calling, close enough to keep an ear out for the news when the Doleshi went after Madame Kikikika for her treachery. From the sound of things, it wasn't pretty for either side.<p>

"They were criminals," Steven said, faintly green as the reports rolled in.

"_We're_ criminals," said Jack, turning off the receiver. The long, hot bath he'd taken hadn't improved his mood like it usually did. "We just try not to hurt people. Are you ready to leave?" His tone said their guest had more than worn out his welcome, and Ianto didn't miss the quickly hidden hurt that passed over Steven's face.

"I suppose. I was having so much fun, I guess ... " He nodded to Ianto. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you."

Steven's hand moved over his tiny machine, then paused. "Do you want to come with me?"

Jack went to answer, but Steven was looking at Ianto, who said, "Why?"

"I owe you a favour. Seems a good time to repay it. I can have you back five minutes from now."

Jack didn't look convinced. "Don't go," he said in English. "This is how some of my worst ideas got started. Stranded in Cardiff, remember?" He put on his con man's grin, the one smile Ianto had never liked. "And speaking of Cardiff, with that thing, you could go back, _we_could go back. Not for long. We'd have to be careful. But you could say goodbye."

"What would you change if we stole it?" He cast his eyes over to Steven, who was smart enough not to react.

"You have to ask?"

"You're the one who taught me the rules. We can't go back to rewrite a word of our own history." He watched the old pains torment Jack's face, and he leaned in to press his lips against the line on Jack's forehead. "And I know you already understand this. So let it go."

Something lifted from Jack. Ianto was glad to see it gone.

"I still don't trust him."

"I do."

"Why?"

Because he's you, only younger and more sensible. Because I saved his life for your sake. Because someday thousands of years from now, there will be a boat rocking gently on the waves, and you will be watching stars I can't imagine, telling your grandson stories about seabirds, and you will still remember my name when you do.

"I trust him enough." He kissed Jack's cheek. "Also, he speaks English, so he's listening in right now."

"Is he?" Jack glared at Steven. "Now I really don't trust him. I'm coming with you."

"You can't," Ianto and Steven said simultaneously. "I'm sorry," said Steven. "He won't destroy the universe by accidentally meeting himself."

"Please," Jack said dismissively. "In 1941 alone, there were four copies of me running around, and that's just the official count. It'll be fine."

Ianto was only vaguely listening to Jack. Steven was headed to visit Jack in a far-flung future. Ianto was resigned to the fact that no matter how meticulously kept the records, Jack would forget him one day, would forget he'd forgotten. Ianto didn't have to subject himself to the experience first-hand. But he was lonely, Steven had said, millions of years from now, and Ianto had long ago surrendered his own life and wants and dreams for the sake of easing Jack's loneliness. What was one more time?

"Five minutes, this spot. Your word."

Steven nodded, and Ianto brushed his hand over Jack's chin. "Don't worry. I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, by Jack's reckoning, Ianto returned. Jack glared at Steven, who merely waved and vanished again. "No goodbyes?"

"None needed," Ianto said. "I collected the rest of our payment." He handed Jack the credit slip and tried not to think too hard about depositing money withdrawn from the same account thousands of years later. Somewhere out there, an accountant was having paroxysms of rage over temporal abuse of the interstellar banking system.

"Where did he take you? How long were you gone?"

"The future. For a while." Ianto had considered his answer carefully before returning.

"Specifically?"

"Can't share. Are we ready to leave?"

Jack was grumpy at the change of subject, but went back with him to the cockpit anyway. "You can just tell me. I've been to the future loads of times." He started up the engines.

"And you refuse to tell me a thing about it."

"So this is some kind of petty revenge? Not your style."

"That, and preserving the timeline." He completed his own systems check, then he shot Jack a smile. "I'll make it up to you."

When Jack wasn't paying attention, he secreted the Vortex Manipulator back into the safe.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Rhiannon,<em>

_The planet where I'm going to die is named Chylla. We're going to stand up to an impossible threat again, and we're going to lose again. I'm sorry that I'm never going to make it back to see you one last time. I'm sorry our final goodbye frightened you. Jack's the only one who gets a proper goodbye, but Rhi, it's because I love him. Try to understand._

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><p>Much later, when they were safely in the air and on course for their next destination, Ianto led him to their bunk. Jack remained petulant, and Ianto worked on kissing away the annoyed expression.<p>

Jack's glower gentled under the kisses. "I like it when you make things up to me."

"So do I. Let's see, my infraction was not letting you tag along on a short time hop and not telling you where I went."

"It's a very serious infraction. Your hair is longer than it was."

Ianto immediately raised a hand to his head. "Is it? Better than falling out, I suppose."

"How long were you gone? Just tell me that." Jack was thinking of lost hours and days gone forever now that Ianto had spent them somewhere else. He couldn't be allowed to learn he'd merely banked the time for later.

Ianto returned to kissing Jack's mouth, and when the petulance resurfaced, satisfied himself with Jack's jaw, licking the aromatic skin at Jack's soft neck and breathing in deeply. His hands pushed Jack's shoulders to the pillows, unmarked flesh stark against wine-coloured pillowcases, and the sight quickened his breath until he'd managed to suck and nibble a crimson-purple mark at Jack's pulsepoint that matched the sheets.

"Don't be angry," he said, biting the request into the soft places on Jack's chest and torso, tiny indentations that would fade as fast as a bullet wound.

"I'm not angry."

Ianto only barely swallowed his own words, and crawled down to swallow Jack's dick instead, taking him in with long-practised ease.

Jack made a pleased noise, which stuttered into a gasping moan as Ianto wrapped his hand around the base of Jack's cock and began sucking at him hard. They'd been lovers for more than half of Ianto's life. He used all his knowledge of Jack's body tonight, pressing firm fingers to the tender skin of his perineum, licking the delicate throb of the thick vein on his tongue. Jack was taken completely by surprise, as Ianto had intended, wriggling in hot pleasure.

Their cabin was never much to look at, small and cramped but soundproofed to keep their private life to themselves when they had passengers. The sounds that Jack made filled the tiny room, warming Ianto's heart as he relished the symphony of sighs and groans he was eliciting from the instrument of Jack's responsive body. Jack cursed in languages Ianto had yet to learn as each light brush of sharp tooth and wet tongue and slick throat brought him closer. The musical lilt of the Boeshane took over as, without missing a stroke with his mouth, Ianto's fingers scrabbled for the lubricant and then roughly readied Jack.

Anyone could do this with Jack, to Jack. Jack's lovers had numbered in the hundreds well before Ianto had met him the first time, and that number had skyrocketed in the centuries between them, had grown even in their time together with the addition of a few carefully-selected shared third (and fourth) parties. Ianto accepted that with all of who and what Jack was. Sex was as natural to Jack as breathing, as the beating of his own heart.

But tied up with this truth was another, one Ianto had always wanted to believe but not accepted until he'd seen the unassailable evidence: love made it better, and Jack did love him completely and truly. Anyone could sleep with Jack, but only a rare few would ever have this moment.

His own chest pounding, Ianto entered Jack with one long, solid push, eyes never leaving his lover's. Jack moaned incoherently, his expression caught in half-smile, half-pain as Ianto went for quick, dirty thrusts, wanting to bend in for kisses but afraid to lose this angle, this moment, buried in yielding, tight heat. He wrapped one hand around Jack's, wrapped both around Jack's dick, began stroking in time to the stuttered thrusts of Jack's hips as he drove deeper.

It didn't take long for Jack to finish, writhing and amazed, and Ianto watched his face the entire time. He would have this face before him for the rest of his life, unchanging. Time would play out its ravages on Jack only slowly, a wrinkle every millennium, a grey hair each century, and Jack's face would become something else, and still, and still, this moment would belong to Ianto alone.

He came, not with liquid pleasure coursing through his body, but a shiver of simple light. Jack was already coming down, was stroking his side with a warm hand, and the upset line on his brow had smoothed. When Ianto could stiffly pull away enough to bend, he placed a kiss at its vanished shadow before reaching for the wipes to clean away the mess. Then he settled into Jack's shoulder, stroking his hand with tired fingertips and threading their fingers together.

"Tell me?" Jack's voice had gone soft and sleepy, as interested as a child.

"Can't." The price of his trip was that he could never tell Jack about the destination, nor that Steven had indulged him in a brief side-journey on the way home. He and Jack had begun with secrets between them. They'd end with secrets, too, held like a fragile handful of sand.

"All right." He breathed in the scent of Ianto's hair. "You smell like the seashore."

"So I do."

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><p>Epilogue<p>

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><p>"Many of the people I've loved have access to time travelling technology. I turn a corner, and there's a familiar face smiling back. Just last week, I had a visit from a beloved ghost who told me this wasn't the last time, who promised we'd see each other again. That happens to me more than you'd think, but it never gets old. The one resource I have in abundance is time.<p>

"I know now that I'll have him back someday. I can wait a billion years on a promise like that." - from "Me: An Autobiography" (excerpt reprinted from the 948th edition)

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><p><em>There's a strange feeling just below his navel, a sharp tug. A large, airy hall appears where Jack and the ship were. Ianto looks around them, shuddering. Decayed bodies are everywhere, but the smell is dusty and sad rather than rotten. Mummies instead of mildewed corpses. "Where are we?"<em>

_"In a tomb. The whole planet is, up here."_

_"Jack's here?" Alice had found him, Steven said, but how had she come across him in this open grave, and why hadn't she taken him away with her?_

_"He spends over twenty years in this place alone with a caretaker. This isn't long before the end, couple of months, maybe." He turns. "It's been a lot of time. He's changed. Don't be afraid."_

_Ianto is embarrassed to say what he's really afraid of, that this is a Jack who has forgotten him utterly._

_Steven leads the way, picking a path past the sad, twisted corpses. The dead lay where they died. It's horrible. They come to a small room apart from the rest. The strangest thing waits for them there: a woman like a cat, who rises arthritically to greet them with a wide, fanged smile. Behind her, in a large, smoky jar …_

_This must be some trick, some terrible joke. The alien head is overlarge and wizened with age, tentacles floating suspended behind it like a woman's hair in water. Even as the cat woman says, "Welcome," there is a voice in Ianto's mind that says,_

"Steven!_"_

_"Hello," Steven says, a mischievous smile on his face. "I brought a friend. I hope you don't mind."_

_The cat woman says, "Guests are a rare treat, but always welcome."_

_Ianto's eyes are locked on the jar, the smoke, the face. He feels an odd pressure in his head, like fingers tickling through his scalp, and his first impulse is to pull away. Instead he stays, watching, letting his mind open. "It's me," he says, aware of how stupid that must sound. "Jack?"_

_The pressure increases, and words that are not words drift through his mind as memories boil up like fish to a sudden lamplight on the water._

_"_I know you._" Emotions from outside Ianto wash through him. Confusion, a touch of fear._

_"Yes."_

_"_Why?_" Curiosity._

_"Because," Steven said fondly, "of that story you made me read. You're too old to remember everyone, you said, but there were a few you always kept, the ones you'd still remember 'when humans are fairy tales …'"_

"'... in books written by rabbits_.'" Introspection, moving into wonder._

_The presence in Ianto's mind grows hesitantly, dipping into memories as if toeing into a swimming pool. Ianto thinks of the good times, the best times. He remembers the first night in the park, and the night they caught Myfanwy. Their first kiss. Jack returning from his travels with the Doctor, Ianto setting foot on Jack's world after three thousand years apart, the day Alice died and was saved, the day Jack first showed him the _Celes Tirra_, and thousands of other days and nights blended into a torrent. He offers his memories as a gift, gliding over sex and adventure and affection, wrapping them all in the love he feels for Jack, his Jack, every Jack._

You are mine and I am yours, and I will love you for as long as I live.

_Recognition echoes back, flooding his senses with the same memories as seen from the other side._

"You!"

_Joy._

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><p>The End<p>

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><p>Art for this story is available at tiggy dot dreamwidth dot org.<p>

My three favourite words are "I liked this."


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